


Ourselves Undone

by Green



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 16:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15844650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/pseuds/Green
Summary: Peter and Chris aren't just displaying their UST. They're fighting over Stiles.





	Ourselves Undone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Twisted_Mind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/gifts).



> pinch-hit! beta'd by majoline. title from Bastille's Flaws.

Another meeting, another night Stiles spends listening to Peter and Chris sniping at each other. He's getting sick of listening to them, and something needs to be done.

"I wish those two would just fuck already," he grumbles to Derek once everyone else has left.

Derek gives him an incredulous look. "You're such an idiot."

"What, why?"

"They're fighting over you," Derek says, looking like he wants to be discussing anything else. The 'dumbass' isn't voiced but Stiles hears it anyway.

" _What?_ " This is certainly news to Stiles.

Derek rolls his eyes and turns to the kitchen.

"You can't just drop a bomb like that and walk away!" Stiles says, following. "What do you mean they're fighting over me?"

Derek gets a soda from the fridge and sighs. "Don't get me involved in this."

"What is _this_?" He's sure he would have picked up on two hot men lusting after him so much they'd fight each other, not to mention he's absolutely positive the tension between them is of the 'unresolved sexual' variety. Peter and Chris want each other. He'd bet on it.

Derek looks up toward the ceiling like he's begging for the conversation to be over.

"C'mon, tell me!"

Derek sighs. "They aren't subtle about their interest in you. Stiles, use some of that quick thinking of yours to figure it out and _leave me out of it_."

"But they're… I mean I'm sure they want each other," Stiles says, mostly to himself.

"Maybe that's part of the problem," Derek says.

Which makes no sense. Or makes all kinds of sense, holy shit.

Stiles needs some time to think about this. And then he's coming up with a plan.

* * *

It takes a while to wrap his head around the whole idea. He understands Chris and Peter being into each other, that's a no-brainer. They're both gorgeous and smart and sexy, with flaws that line up to fit together like a Bastille song. They complement each other. So where would Stiles even fit in with that?

But then he thinks of all the edges Peter and Chris have, and that without a buffer could easily slice each other to a bloody mess. It's what they've been doing lately as they snipe at each other, each of them knowing just what words cut the deepest. And Stiles has already been right there, stepping between them, soothing the worst of the ire. 

Maybe that's where Stiles fits: right between them. And if — and it's a big if — he can get them to see it his way, then maybe there's hope for them.

All three of them, together.

Stiles feels his face heat at the thought. He's fantasized about them, but it's always been one at a time, either/or. Now that there's another possibility, his libido is running at full speed. Which might be a good thing. Chris may not notice, but Peter will certainly smell it on him. And that could spur Peter to action. So Stiles adds it to the tentative plan: play on Peter's werewolf instincts. He can do that. He can come up with all sorts of tricks for that.

But what about Chris, what can he do to tempt him closer? Between the two men, Chris is the more reserved one. He keeps a tight rein on his self-control. But Stiles will do his best to test it. He's just got to find the right opening.

* * *

Clothes sharing is a _thing_ for werewolves. Stiles has seen Scott's eyes light up when Kira wears one of his shirts, so Stiles gets a similar idea. He just needs an excuse. He doesn't want it to seem too fake, either, which makes it hilarious that as he's trying to think of a way to get dirty, not looking where he's going, he gets slimed by the monster of the week.

Peter kills the thing, which is small and gloopy, without getting much on himself. 

Stiles jumps at the chance, though. He knows an opening when he sees one. "Chris, can I borrow a shirt?"

Derek shoots him a look, rolls his eyes, and quickly turns away. Stiles peels out of his ruined shirt when Chris comes back with his. 

Chris says, "It got you pretty good, so I brought you some sweatpants, too."

Stiles nods and he feels Peter's eyes on him. He knows he's not as jacked as the others, being human, but he's not scrawny little Stiles anymore, either. 

"Hurry up and get changed," Derek calls from somewhere Stiles can't see. "I need to get back to the loft."

"I'll take him," Peter says.

Stiles gets the fresh flannel on and surreptitiously sniffs the collar. It smells more like Chris than laundry detergent, and Stiles thinks it's definitely been worn since the last wash. Perfect.

Chris eyes Peter. "The Tahoe's right here. You're parked another mile away."

Stiles toes out of his Vans and takes his goopy jeans off on the far side of the Tahoe, where he won't be seen unless someone is particularly nosy. When he comes back around, Chris and Peter are squared off like they're about to fight. There's no gun or claws in sight, but the men's posturing is fight-or-fuck. It makes him roll his eyes fondly.

"Chris, can we take Peter back to his car?" Stiles asks. Coaxes, more like. 

Chris turns around to look at him and nods like he's forgotten the question. Peter's got his eyes narrowed. Both men are smart, but Peter's more likely to catch on than Chris. Stiles gives him a smile. "See? You can ride with us."

Stiles can only wonder what he smells like. He got most of the goop off when he took his clothes off, but maybe he can suggest a shower. He hasn't heard the werewolves talk about the offensive smell though, so maybe it doesn't overpower the scent of Chris he's wearing right now.

Peter's either jealous or turned on. The way he keeps looking makes Stiles think it's both. And Chris seems pleased, too. Maybe he's got a possessive streak as well. He can't smell himself on Stiles, but he knows Peter can. In fact, Chris looks a little more puffed up than usual.

Stiles smiles to himself and slips into the backseat. He slides all the way over and leaves the door open. Peter slides in next to him. 

"Nobody calling shotgun, then?" Chris asks.

Stiles shrugs and makes sure there's not a lot of room between him and Peter. He watches Peter move his head closer and breathe in. Does he like the combined scent of Stiles and Chris? Is it enough to make him want to add to it?

Chris looks at him in the rearview mirror, worry on his face. What does he think, that Peter's going to molest him against his will or something?

Stiles leans into Peter when they go over a bump, then doesn't move away again. "Ugh, I know I got most of it off me, but I still feel like a need a long, hot shower."

"You can always come back to mine," Peter practically purrs. "My shower is custom. Perfect water pressure, lots of room."

"Stiles has his own house," Chris says through gritted teeth.

"Oh." Stiles sighs a little. "Um, Dad's working overnight and I was hoping I wouldn't have to be alone, actually. So… maybe I'll take you up on your offer, Peter."

Peter smiles sharply. Chris looks torn. He pulls the Tahoe up next to Peter's ridiculously flashy car and waits for Peter to get out. When Stiles goes to follow, Chris puts his hand back, touching Stiles's chest. 

"You don't have to go with him if you don't want," Chris says lowly. "I have a nice shower too, and a guest room if you want a place to stay tonight."

Stiles gives him a little smile. "Thanks, Chris. But… I mean, if you're really worried about Peter and me alone together, you should come with us."

"I don't think Peter would-"

"Please?" Stiles asks. He bats his eyelashes outrageously, making Chris smile and huff a laugh.

"Do you really want me to?" Chris asks. "Do you need a buffer?"

Stiles moves forward, pokes his head up between the two front seats so he's close to Chris. "I'd like to not be alone tonight, and the two of you are the best company I can think of." 

He knows Peter's listening. 

"What are you up to, Stiles?" Chris asks. (Peter's probably thinking the exact same thing.)

Stiles grins. He's playing it by ear, but he has a good feeling about this.

* * *

While the hot water streams over him, Stiles thinks. He soaps himself up with Peter's shower gel, thinking about how smelling like Peter will bring his instincts out, make him smug and possessive. The thought makes Stiles smile.

But if he can't find an opening tonight, maybe he'll find one another time. He can ask Peter to teach him to defend himself, but in front of Chris so Chris can mention he knows hand to hand for humans better than Peter. Then Stiles can suggest they both teach him, kind of a tag-team mentorship. 

God, the thought of them tag-teaming in other ways has him getting hard.

"Stop that," Stiles hisses at himself. Now is not the time. He washes his hair with Peter's fancy salon-brand shampoo then rinses off. When he turns the water off, he can hear yelling.

He can't hear what they're saying, but it's time he got back out there. He can't leave them alone together without some kind of trouble, he thinks fondly.

He grabs a towel and sprints out to the living area just to Peter say, "You're just jealous, Christopher."

Which makes Stiles want to roll his eyes. Chris and Peter are standing close, right up in each other's space like they could kiss at any moment. Maybe Stiles shouldn't interrupt. He forgets he's only wearing a towel.

"I just think you want to take advantage of him and I'm not going to allow it," Chris says, and Stiles really does roll his eyes this time. 

"You're both jealous, clueless assholes," he says, and when Chris and Peter turn to him with identical caught-out expressions, he has to laugh.

They both seem to recover at the same time, but it's Peter who speaks first. "What are we clueless about, sweetheart?"

Chris growls like _he's_ the werewolf. "Don't call him-"

"It's fine," Stiles cuts in to say. 

Peter shoots Chris a triumphant look and Chris looks… stung. Stiles wants to kiss him. He walks closer.

"I can feel all my plans go out the window," he says.

"Plans?" Chris asks. Stiles keeps his eyes on him, all his attention, because he's already given Peter too much and now he needs to focus on the other man.

Stiles nods. "I was going to ease you both into this, but… I think this requires more direct action."

Peter and Chris both frown. 

"Peter, do you think you're a good kisser?" Stiles asks innocently.

Of course, Peter looks smug, like he's won something, and nods.

Stiles turns to Chris. "Will you test that for me?"

Chris visibly startles. "What?"

Stiles moves closer and reaches up to touch Chris's beard. He's imagining his body pink and tender from it, from Peter's stubble, too. He hears Peter suck in a breath behind him. 

"Kiss him for me," Stiles says and takes a step back. He looks at both men and smiles. "I dare you."

"I don't get a say in this?" Peter asks wryly.

Stiles smiles knowingly. "Do you really want to object?"

Peter's lips twist. "No."

"No?" Chris echoes. 

Peter snarls and kisses Chris. He's not gentle, and he grips him like he's afraid he'll pull away if he doesn't.

Chris moans against Peter's mouth and holds on. Stiles has to wonder, for a moment, if Derek was wrong. Maybe Peter and Chris only need each other. He stands there, uncertain. Should he walk away now?

And then Peter pulls away and reels him in. "Darling, what's wrong?"

Stiles licks his lips nervously. Peter's eyes darken at the sight, giving him some confidence back. "Kiss me, too?" He reaches for Chris. "And you. I want you both. If… if that's okay."

Chris and Peter share a look. Then Peter is kissing Stiles and Chris slots in behind him like he was meant to be right there. Chris's hands fit on his hips and Stiles is aware of every stitch of clothes he's not wearing.

His heart is pounding in his chest and Chris presses against him. He can feel the way Chris gets hard against his ass, and moans, rocking back. Chris's hands tighten on his hips. 

But then Peter is pressed against his front, and he can feel Peter's erection, too. It's a delicious place to be, right between them, right where he wants to be.

He feels Chris's lips on his shoulder. He tilts his head back and Peter goes for his throat. He never realized just how sensitive he was there, not until this moment.

"More," he whines.

"This what you wanted, baby?" Chris asks, and then scrapes his teeth against Stiles's skin.

"Yesss," Stiles says. The word comes out slurred. He already feels blissed out, just from a kiss and some touching. He frowns to himself — he hasn't kissed Chris yet. "Unfair."

"What is, sweetheart?" Peter asks.

Stiles turns. He feels the towel slipping from his hips. He doesn't care, because that's Chris's mouth on his, hot and hungry.

Peter chuckles in his ear and runs his hands down Stiles's sides. Stiles wants to find a way to hold onto both of them, he doesn't want to let go for a second. He winds up with one arm slung around Chris's neck as they kiss and another thrown back to grab at Peter however he can.

"Beautiful," Peter breathes.

Stiles doesn't know what he means. Peter directs his gaze, gestures to mirror that Stiles at first mistakes for a painting. It can't possibly be him, right? The naked boy sandwiched between two gorgeous men… And yet, somehow, it is. He looks wanton, his lips red and swollen already, his cheeks pink, his eyes bright with excitement.

"Do you see?" Peter asks, and Stiles nods. But he'd rather have them than watch, so he pulls Peter close and kisses him over his shoulder. Chris takes the opportunity to kiss his throat, his shoulder, his chest.

Chris's hands are calloused; they should be rough against his skin but it's just the opposite. Chris touches him gently, carefully, clearly holding himself back. Peter's touching him like he'll never get another chance. Hell, they both seem to be doing that, and Stiles wants to reassure, to tell them they've got him for good now. There's no getting rid of Stiles.

But he also knows that's the sort of thing you learn. Certain truths you have to find out for yourself. 

"Take me to bed," Stiles tells them, and watches Peter's eyes flash. 

"Are you sure?" Chris asks. One of his hands slides down Stiles's back to cup his ass. 

"I am _so_ sure," Stiles says. He takes a step back. His cock bobs and sways, and he wraps a hand around himself because he probably looks stupid. Oh, that feels good. He takes another step back, toward Peter's room, and they follow him like he's all they could possibly want. It makes him feel more confident, especially the desire in their eyes. There's no faking that.

He has no idea how this night is going to pan out, but he's confident he has them now. He has to make sure they have each other, too, though. So when Peter asks him what he wants, he tells them he'd love to see them kiss again. That they should strip each other down while Stiles watches.

It's satisfying to watch them get more comfortable with each other. They start out harsh and clumsy, but by the time they're undressed, the kiss is much slower, languorous, like they're really getting into the erotic feel of it. It's also hot as hell. Stiles is, of course, in this for more than their bodies, but their bodies are something to be admired, and he sits back and admires for a few long minutes before getting his head back in the game.

Stiles rummages through Peter's drawers and finds lube. Of course it's the fancy kind. Peter wouldn't make do with K-Y. Plus Stiles knows from endless research (and from one very memorable rant Kira gave him months ago) that Peter's chosen a good body-safe brand.

Stiles lies down beside Peter and Chris when they break for air. He smiles at them and wiggles the lube. "Who wants to do the honors?"

Chris and Peter reach for the bottle at the same time and Stiles laughs. It comes out more a giggle, really. Chris looks surprised at the sound, and Peter looks absolutely delighted.

But then it doesn't take long to find out they want to _taste_ him first, and that they won't stop until he's begging. He's not sure what he begs for, maybe to come, maybe for them to keep going, maybe for someone to fuck him already. 

Then, when Chris's mouth isn't occupied, he starts to talk. And he talks so dirty. Stiles isn't sure if it's his tone, or the timbre, or the actual words, but he gets so worked up from it he whines and begs some more.

Chris laughs lowly, sucks a bruise against his skin — another one — and keeps talking.

"You were so brave to show us how you felt, baby," Chris says in that sinful voice. "We just want to reward you."

Peter's got his tongue and his fingers in Stiles's ass now, and Stiles never thought he'd be able to come from that but it's looking more and more like a distinct possibility.

"Please," Stiles cries, and it sounds so weak and pitiful in his own ears that he's not sure they'll listen at all. But then Chris wraps his hand around Stiles's throbbing cock, and that's all he needs. He comes, and then he cries, because dammit he's overwhelmed. But also because he wanted them to fuck him and he couldn't hold on.

"Shh, sweetheart, you were perfect, that was just what we wanted," Peter promises him. "Get you all relaxed and ready for us, hmm?"

Stiles sniffs. "Really?" 

Chris wipes the tears from Stiles's eyes and nods. "We're just getting started, baby."

A thrill goes through him at that, even as he tries to parse what that means for the rest of the night. Oh, fuck, they're going to _wreck_ him.

* * *

He's not wrong. It doesn't last all night, because only one of them has supernatural stamina, but Chris keeps up pretty well and they both expect _Stiles_ to keep up because apparently being a teenager gives him super sex powers. Or something.

By the time they decide Stiles has had enough orgasms, all he can do is lie there while they provide gentle aftercare. Chris cleans him with a warm cloth that smells faintly of Peter's shower gel, and Stiles blinks at them, so fucked out he doesn't have words. 

Peter looks tired himself, but beyond smug. "Hmm. It only took five hours to fuck you senseless." A cool water bottle appears in his hand and he offers it to Stiles, who drinks from it greedily.

Chris looks at the alarm clock on Peter's bedside table. "Four and a half, really."

Peter smirks. "Maybe we should work on wrecking _you_ next time."

Chris laughs but Stiles likes the idea.

"Should take turns," Stiles mumbles. At least he thinks that's what he says.

Chris understands, anyway. He turns a wide smile on Peter. "Yes. I think between us, we might be able to fuck the sass right out of Peter."

It's good to see him happy. To see them _both_ happy. They're loose-limbed and too fucked-out to keep their usual painful edges. They aren't sniping at each other or posturing. It's a good look, and Stiles wants to keep it this way.

He props himself up on one arm once Chris is done cleaning him and looks at them both. "We should probably talk about this."

Peter raises his eyebrows. "Darling, you need some sleep. We can talk about it in the morning."

Stiles shakes his head. "I don't want Chris trying to sneak out on us."

"What?" Chris asks, his eyes wide. "I wouldn't… I mean, unless I thought-"

Stiles thinks he has to be the one to settle things once and for all, which is why he's surprised when it's Peter who speaks up. 

Peter leans over and kisses Chris's cheek. "He's right. We don't want you overthinking yourself right out of a good thing."

Stiles nods. "We've got a good thing here." It's terribly hard to keep his eyes open and his thoughts working right, but this is important.

"We want you to stay," Peter says. It's impressive the way he's read Stiles's intentions without them having to talk about it first.

"Both of you?" Chris asks. He looks back and forth between them, and for one of the first times ever, lets his vulnerability show. Stiles knows exactly how he feels. This is such a _good_ thing, and the three of them are used to getting all the bad out of life.

"If you'll have us," Peter says, voice strained, and Stiles realizes he's just as vulnerable right now. 

If it doesn't work out between them, at least they would have tried. And Stiles definitely wants to try.

Stiles leans against Chris, rubs his cheek against his beard. At the same time, his hand finds Peter's and their fingers interlace like they were made to do just that.

Chris sighs and relaxes even more. Stiles thought he was relaxed before, but now he realizes he was still holding himself back. Still ready to bolt if he had to.

Stiles pulls at Peter until he's spooned behind him and Stiles can use Chris's chest as a pillow. "Okay. Nobody's going anywhere. Now we can sleep." In the morning there might be more doubts, but for now they've got the worst of them settled. 

Chris is breathing evenly, in and out, already asleep. Peter tightens an arm around him. "Thank you, sweetheart."

"Mmm?" Stiles asks. But Peter doesn't explain, just kisses a spot on his shoulder he seems partial to. Stiles would bet good money there's a mark there.

In the morning, he's sure to find marks everywhere. Bruises, love bites, beard burn. He'll cherish every one.

Before he drifts off, he's caught again by how well they fit together. He falls asleep with a smile on his face, and dreams of nothing but good things.


End file.
